*Warning: Blood and gore in the beginning of this chapter*
"Welcome back, apprentice."
Dick shuddered at the voice, cold, calculating, and completely in control. He turned and came face to face with the orange mask of his teacher.
"Sl- Master," he greeted, instinctively taking a step back and looking around. He couldn't see anything but Slade, the rest of the room was pitch black. He narrowed his eyes- how had he gotten here? What was going on?
Slade took a step forward and grabbed Dick's jaw roughly, forcing eye contact. His single eye gleamed viciously.
"I'm so glad you've returned, Renegade," he said. "I have one last job for you."
Dick stared up at him uncomprehendingly, still trying to figure out how the heck he had gotten back to Deathstroke. Slade grabbed his hair and tugged him around, so he was facing the opposite direction, looking at a yellow and red lump on the floor-
The speedster was lying on the ground in front of them, his arms and legs tightly bound, and a gag was preventing him from speaking. His green eyes stared up pleadingly at Dick, however, and despite the brave expression he was trying to maintain, Dick could see poorly masked fear in those emerald orbs.
Dick gasped and ripped out of Slade's grasp, whirling around and facing the mercenary. Slade was glaring at him with an icy gaze, ignoring Dick's horrified look.
"You heard me, apprentice. Kill him," Deathstroke repeated, and suddenly something cold and metallic was pressed into Dick's hands- he looked down to see his katana. Slowly he lifted his gaze and stared at Slade, then Wally, then the sword.
Deathstroke's glare intensified.
"Kill the speedster," he ordered, and Dick flinched at his tone, automatically stumbling towards where Wally was bound- but then he froze, what was he doing? There was no way he was going to kill one of his only friends! He took a step back, and locked eyes with the speedster in front of him- and suddenly ran right into Slade, who had walked up behind him.
"I... I-I..." Dick stuttered, staring up at the man in horror and desperately trying to come up with something to save his friend- something, anything!
"Do it," Slade snarled. "Last chance."
Dick stared at Wally, then down at the sword in his hands. He let it slip from his grasp and clatter to the ground.
"I can't," he whispered.
"You can't?" Slade growled softly- dangerously soft. "What do you mean, you can't?" Anger was radiating off of him in waves, and Dick trembled slightly.
"I can't kill him... he's my friend."
Slade growled and plucked the sword off of the floor, gripping it tightly in his fist.
"If you won't, I will."
He stood over Wally and raised the sword.
"NO! DON'T!" Dick yelled, surging forward- but something stopped him, his legs wouldn't move! Why wouldn't his legs freaking MOVE? He needed to save his friend!
Deathstroke turned and met Dick's frantic gaze.
And then he brought the sword down- straight into Wally's chest.
Not even the gag could muffled the speedster's choked scream as the blade pierced through his body. Wally's body shuddered, his green eyes widening in terror and slowly moving down to stare at the sword in his chest. Then he went limp.
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Upon his parent's deaths during a circus "accident" in Metropolis, Dick Grayson is taken in by Lex Luthor, who sees much potential in him. Dick is trained by the mercenary Deathstroke to become Luthor's personal assassin. Can the Justice League and...